by Travis Jeppesen on July 13, 2012
My space the godness garden of all. Stick to emerge the fragment, pearl drops inside rocked crescence, only to suicide the crags of oceanic wayfare: noblesse beginnings. Curved around shedlife’s tumescent wan long, fall down to perfectly symmetrize the sky’s falling. Yesterday a little moon. Not about being slight, trying to find the object through meaning. Write about it like it’s nature. But I am a rock, steel, I can never be a waterfall. I am made: always to be found in nature, the godness (again) of a metal fortress.
(Wood sings a song to Stone.)